Sheep Go to Heaven
by museless22
Summary: Drunken escapades. Last LJ ficlet, I think. If I don't excise anymore from my hard drive. Enjoy.


Title: Sheep Go to Heaven

Rating: PG-13-Maybe light R, nothing graphic or explicit just language and subject matter

Pairings: Sam/Janet (Unrequited, I suppose)

Category: Angst

Series: SG1

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate or any of it's characters. I just borrowed them for a bit.

Summary: Janet has a tough time

Notes: Just a little ficlet that popped into my head whilst listening to Cake. Why? I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine.

Janet snuggled deeper into her pillow, stretching like a cat. She had the headache from hell but it was insanely comfortable here, wrapped around her comforter with the early morning sun warm on her back. There was something off about the pillow she was clinging to but it didn't register until she stretched her fingers out underneath it, gripping the sheets. Silk sheets. Very, very different from the simple striped cotton on her own bed.

Her own...

"Oh God!"

Janet sprung up and hissed as the light hit her eyes, throwing an arm over her face to ward off the offending brightness and falling over backwards in the process. It took her several long moments to regain her bearings and even then she found the events that had led her to be wherever the hell here was were a foggy blur.

The good news was she seemed to still be, for the most part, fully clothed- granted she was fairly certain the too big Beatles tee-shirt was not what she had started out in- and was alone in the room. The bad news was she had no idea whose room it was.

When Janet's eyes finally adjusted enough to squint around at her surrounding she couldn't recall ever having been there before. The blank white walls offered up no clues. In fact, there didn't seem to be much in the way of personal items at all, not even the normal clutter she would have expected of some one's bed room. No clothes on the floor-even the hamper in the corner was empty- no decorations or mess of any kind. It was all very Spartan. Someone was either very obsessive compulsive or didn't spend a whole lot of time there.

Or they were just unbelievably boring.

Janet glanced over at the bedside table and found several framed photos, neatly arranged. She was a little relieved to see that the majority of them were people she recognized. One of Cassie and the damned dog Jack had got her when she first came to Earth, one of Jack himself and the other two male members of SG-1. One of Janet and Cassie together. And one with a vaguely familiar blond woman she didn't recognize, smiling with two fair haired children and a man that was without a doubt a slightly younger Jacob Carter.

Carter.

Oh yeah.

The previous day came back in a rush and Janet massaged her temples, groaning. It had started out as an ordinary enough Saturday. Cassie was off for a weekend of fishing fun with her three favorite honorary uncles and Janet had planned to spend the free time catching up with the house and giving her floundering garden a little much needed tender loving care. Around noon she had gotten a phone call from an old friend from med school and they had chatted about everything and nothing for a good half hour before the bomb had been dropped. Her ex had remarried. A week before. An entire week before and no one had thought to tell her.

The rest of the afternoon was still a blur but she remembered with unfortunate clarity the bar she'd gone to that night to drown her woes. Confessing to some unlucky fellow patron her fears of living the rest of her life alone over bad beer and shots. Shots that at some point must have turned into belly shots because Janet distinctly remembered the girl; Couldn't remember the girl's name to save her life but she suspected it would be a long time before she forgot those abs. Some time later there had been bad, bad karaoke. She had the vaguest recollection of being wrapped around a mic stand belting out the lyrics to a Cake number she had no business singing, badly slurring the lyrics of "Sheep go to Heaven". It couldn't have been more than an hour or two later when the bartender, a balding man who looked like he had been cut right out of a hunk of rock, had decided she'd had enough and cut her off. He'd given her a few quarters for the pay phone and made sure she stayed upright until the designated driver showed up to collect her.

Designated Driver...

Poor, poor Sam.

Janet thought- Scratch that, she was positive- that she had been the inflicter of highly inappropriate groping as her blond friend had helped her stagger out to the car. Then dear, sweet, innocent Sam red as a beet root as she helped the inebriated woman into clothes suitable for sleeping, constantly batting away wandering, too friendly hands.

"Ohhhhhh God." Janet pressed the palms of her hands against her eye sockets, groaning miserably. What the other woman must think! She was never going to be able to look her in the eye again. Doctor Fraiser didn't do things like this. Cool, calm, collected, always professional. She certainly never, ever got drunk off her ass and hit on her best and pretty much only friend.

Just the thought of facing her was mortifying but it had to happen sometime. Janet had to get out of here sooner rather than later. Poor Sam, she must have given the doctor her bed and opted for bunking on the couch.

Janet found her clothing draped over the rail at the foot of the bed and slipped into the jeans and snug sweater of the previous night before creeping out into the hallway. She could count the number of times she had been in Sam's house on one hand-They usually got together at Janet's- but the hallway was familiar enough for her to at least feel somewhat oriented. As she made her way into the living room she found herself hoping that maybe Sam would still be asleep and she could escape without any kind of confrontation.

No such luck. Sam was waiting for her with a big, heart warming grin and a cup of coffee. Janet might have hugged her for the much appreciated effort if she wasn't still feeling so unbelievably uncomfortable.

"Wow. You look... really awful." Sam said with a wince, still grinning as Janet dove into her coffee mug.

Janet's smile was wry as she tangled her fingers through sleep mussed hair. "I honestly don't even want to know."

"Janet... Are you... Okay?"

"Aside from the jack hammer drilling into my skull? Just peachy."

"No. I mean... I mean..." Sam gestured vaguely. "You know..."

"Well, I'm a little bit humiliated. A lot humiliated, actually. But I'll get over it."

Sam sighed. "Okay. Okay. But if you want to talk about... Whatever that was, I'm here, okay?"

"Sam, you've already gone above and beyond the call of duty."

"Hey, what are friends for? We all have days we aren't proud of."

Janet scowled behind her coffee mug, shifting from foot to foot, feeling as though those big blue eyes could see right through her. Sam usually wasn't very astute on emotional matters but sometimes Janet felt like she knew far too much. "Yes, well, I'm... I'm..." She struggled for the right words. "I'm not supposed to! I'm not supposed to fall apart. This isn't me, this isn't what I do!"

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Janet."

She was so earnest it was almost easy to break and agree.

"Yes I do."

"Why?" Sam was suddenly too close, her hands on Janet's shoulders.

"Because. Because if I'm not... I don't have anyone to fall back on."

"Oh Jan... You know that's not true." Sam wrapped the smaller woman in a warm embrace, taking the almost empty mug and setting it aside. "You have me. You always have me."

Janet allowed herself to be hugged, clinging tightly to Sam's shirt front. Sam had no idea how much her well meaning words cut so very close to home, no idea how much they hurt, how much Janet wanted... "Thanks. I don't deserve you."

"Of course not." Sam was grinning again. "But you have me anyway."

"Yeah."

It just wasn't enough.


End file.
